It was Sunday morning and I was in church. Sunday school, to be exact. It was pouring rain outside. You could actually hear water running somewhere over our heads or perhaps down a pipe in the wall. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from, but it was distracting from the discussion of the Bible.
Just then, someone in an adjacent room moved something huge. It sounded as if they were dragging a cruise ship on its' hull across a concrete driveway.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE!
"What was THAT?!" the Sunday School teacher inquired, somewhat rhetorically.
Seeing an opportunity and being perpetually 12-years-old, I couldn't help myself.
"That was me," I said, as I placed my hand on my abdomen. "Sorry about that." And then I made a face like I was horribly embarrassed.
There was what seemed an eternity of dreaded silence as the rest of the class turned to look at me.
Uh oh! Bad timing.
And then, blessed relief, they began to laugh. The teacher tried to continue reading, but he couldn't. I had pulled it off!
YES!
I gotta stop doing that.
The rain lasted all weekend long, resulting in a dense fog that appeared last night and has remained throughout this morning. Driving is difficult and I have been instantly reminded that I need to install some fog lights on my truck.
So of course I am driving at my usual speed, only now I'm squinting and leaning forward as if it will somehow help to get closer to the windshield.
As I flew down a country road on my way into work this morning, I saw in the distance a black man standing in the middle of the road. A minivan coming the other way stopped and he walked over to it. As I came upon him I was forced to slow to a crawl. He turned to look at me briefly. He appeared to be in a daze. A white woman was driving the minivan and they were talking. I saw some garbage in the road and averted my attention to avoid running over it.
Crunch!
"Dammit!"
And then I looked over to my right, down into the weeds in the ditch beside the road. Steam was rising up like smoke from a chimney.
There, shattered and broken almost beyond recognition, with the wipers still going, was the crumpled remains of his ruined little car.
That reminds me, it's deer season.
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